On How Dean Winchester Fell For Castiel
by BadassCompany
Summary: "I did not leave you there." The words fell out of Dean's mouth, so much softer than he had intended them to be. That was it. That was the moment it all came crashing down around his ears. His first thought, laced with romantic and tragic undertones, was Fuck.
1. Parking Lot Revelations

Prologue

"I did not leave you there." The words fell out of Dean's mouth, so much softer than he had intended them to be. That was it. That was the moment it all came crashing down around his ears. His first thought, laced with romantic and tragic undertones, was Fuck. It was shortly followed by, Oh fuck and Fuck, what have I done? and finally, Holy fuck. Literally.

He shoved his hands in the pockets of his worn leather jacket, staring at the concrete for a few seconds. He needed to have himself under control. That meant he couldn't keep thinking about how stupidly gorgeous Cas looked in the moonlight or the way his eyes shone or the agony inside Dean's chest when Castiel looked into his soul and said, "You think this is your fault?"

Fuck. Contrary to popular belief, Dean Winchester had not always been in love with Castiel. By popular belief, one refers of course to the plethora of demons and angels who consistently call Castiel Dean's boyfriend or something of the like. In a way, that was how the idea had come to him. If day in and day out the monster you were about to gank used its last breath to whisper something naughty about you and your best friend, well, you wonder what gives off that impression. Of course it was true that the same thing had happened with his brother multiple times, but those comments were rattled off by civilians. On the whole, Dean found demons to be a whole lot more perceptive than regular humans. He paused at the end of almost every day and considered the possibility, often while washing blood off his face from the hunt and staring at himself in the mirror. I don't love him. Right? Right. Good. Great. He'd nod at himself and then the matter was summarily dismissed. Dean shouldn't really have needed to perform this daily check. He wasn't gay, and of that he was very sure. Therefore, he couldn't possibly be attracted to the laconic angel. Right? Right.

Yet he had to ask himself anyway. If Sam had been there, he would have seen a strangely vulnerable expression cross the older brother's face. Sam would have paused for a moment, swung his legs over the hotel bed and walked over. He would've handed Dean a beer, taken the whiskey out of his hand and offered that silent smile which said, 'We can talk if you want to.'

No one, though, was ever there when Dean asked himself The Question. There were some days that The Question took longer to answer than it should have. Some days he had to ask it multiple times, just to reassure himself. Whenever he answered himself No, it was like a warm pat on the back saying, 'You're not in love with Cas. It's gonna be alright.' It had never occurred to him that there would be a day when he asked The Question and only angry silence would follow, never occurred to him that someday the answer would change. Fuck.

The case was over and Cas was gone. Again. Dean didn't know if he should lie back and relax (watch some straight porn) or hit the wall. Maybe both. His head hurt from all the thinking he'd done on the way to the motel. Cas hadn't wanted to come with Sam and him - he instead had stayed with Mr. Jones listening to Ode to Joy play in his head. Dean wasn't sure what it meant that the angel preferred a psychic with dementia listening to hymns to riding shotgun in the impala. Dean groaned. His fingernails dug crescent moons in his palms. He had no right to be angry with Mr. Jones of all people - he'd been a great guy. While he had more than half a brain.

The real kicker, though, was how goddamn contented Cas had looked as they walked out of the room. Like there was no place he'd rather be. Dean stood and threw his beer bottle across the room. It smashed on the wall and the glistening fragments slid down to the carpet where he glared miserably at them. He didn't even remember finishing the beer. Dean stood still before crumpling to the floor, not very gracefully. His leather clad back was braced against the end of the bed. He put his head in his hands and thought once again, Oh fuck.

This was how Sam found him some hours later. Dean hastily insisted he had a bad hangover, which Sam thought was ambitious given that it was six o'clock and they'd been on a case the day before. His brows furrowed in thought. What was wrong? What could possibly be... A passing shadow of a suggestion came through Sam's mind, but he dismissed it. For now. Sam was confident that soon enough, the truth would come out. Dean rolled over, unable to get to sleep, the mattress taunting him. Not for the first time today, he wondered, how the fuck did you get yourself into this, Winchester?


	2. I Could Kiss You Right Now

**I have no idea why last time it uploaded with the style codes, I'm so sorry!**

Lazarus Rising

"I am the one who gripped you tight and raised you for perdition." The flash of blue from his tie seemed to leap out at Dean. The hand print on his shoulder burned something fierce, and all he could do was stare in disbelief, Ruby's knife heavy in his hand. His eyelids still bore imprints from the show of sparks upon the creature's entrance. Finally, Dean met the cool blue eyes.

"Yeah. Thanks for that." With no warning, Dean lunged at the man in the trench coat, sticking the blade deep within his chest. Nothing happened. Nothing. Until Bobby was on the floor and this albeit handsome motherfucker is standing there telling him, "I'm an Angel of the Lord."

Dean heard himself say, "Get the hell out of here. There's no such thing." Inside, though, the gears of his mind were turning. He knew Sammy believed in God, but it was all bullshit. It had to be. God didn't exist, and bad things happened to good people, and bad things happened to bad people, and bad things happened to the Winchesters, whatever the hell kind of people they were. Angels? God? No such thing. Because he could believe that he deserved to go to hell, to burn there for all eternity, but to be saved? Dean surveyed the mussed black hair, the dangerous blue eyes and the rumpled trench coat. Whatever kind of monster this guy was, he was a liar too.

"This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith." With that lightning cracked like a whip through the barn. Enormous black shadows of wings rose behind the so-called holy tax accountant and Dean's eyes went wide. He narrowly avoided letting out a low breath of "Son of a bitch," in angelic company. Dean stared long and hard and accepted, right there and then, that this was Castiel, an Angel of the Lord, the one who gripped him tight and raised him from perdition. His heart raced, but not in a pleasurable way. Not in the way your heart races when you ask a pretty girl to see a movie with you for the first time. Terror gripped him and held him firm. Standing before him in a dirty trench coat was an eons old being who had saved his soul and could smite him back into the ground where he stood.

The time hadn't yet come for The Question. It's precursor, though, lurked in the shadows of his mind. What the hell is it about him? There was something so raw, so powerful and savage under the suit and tie and, like any kind of power, it piqued his curiosity. What the hell is it?

In The Beginning

"Hello, Dean. What were you dreaming about?"

Dean jolted upright, blurry eyes catching a glimpse of Castiel. "What, do you get your freak on by watching other people sleep? What do you want?" The words rolled out of his mouth without thinking, but he wasn't paying attention to the Angel's answer. He was curious again. What kind of celestiel being would waste its time watching Dean sleep. He wasn't sure if it was in a sinister way or even in a protective way. Either way, why would he care what Dean dreamt about? A pointed jab about his nightmares was surely too obvious. He studied Castiel, realizing that this being had more layers than he had bothered to paint. He swallowed. If this... Thing was going to be watching him for the times to come, he had better figure out what the hell it wanted.

It's The Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester

Castiel sat on the bench adjacent to him, sunlight playing across his clasped hands. Dean pursed his lips in an almost rueful way. He was sorry about the seal, he was sorry Samhain had risen. Really, he was. But there was no way this son of a holy bitch was going to find that out. Castiel was a stone wall and Dean felt sure emotions other than fury were mostly wasted on him. Lucifer, though, The Devil was one step closer to walking free. If Castiel and Uriel were the good guys, he'd hate to meet the bad guys. For that, he supposed he owed the dickish angel an explanation. "So I, uh, failed your test, huh? I get it. But you know what? If you would have waved that magic time-traveling wand of yours and we had to do it all over again, I'd make the same call. 'Cause see, I don't know what's gonna happen when these seals are broken, hell I don't even know what's gonna happen tomorrow. But what I do know is, that this, here? These kids, the swings, the trees, all of it is still here because of my brother and me."

As they spoke, Dean realized he had been wrong, yet again. Cas, as he had taken to calling him, had surprised him once again. The awesome power he wielded lay coiled like a snake in the sun, ready to spring into action yet relaxed. Something different had taken root in his eyes - something earnest, something painfully almost-human.

So Castiel confessed to the hunter, "I'm not a… hammer as you say. I have questions, I have doubts. I don't know what is right and what is wrong anymore." As he finished speaking, Dean could no longer hold his gaze. He turned to look at the bright playground and when he looked back, Castiel was gone. The thought rose unbidden to the surface of his mind. Have I fallen for him? Dean blinked and stared at his shoes. No. That's impossible.

Death Takes A Holiday

Dean was angry. So goddamn angry. And the object of his fury - well, he was standing in a dirty beige trench coat. What kind of fucker even wore beige? Beige was the dominion of boring old ladies who had gone colorblind, not Angels of the Lord. Innocent people were going to start dying in this town, again. Innocent people died all the time, that was a fact of life. He tried to save a few. But Pamela, Pamela was gonna be dead dead because of him. "You made an exception for me." Dean said bluntly, past arguing almost. Life was so hopelessly unfair and people who didn't deserve it kept dying in his wake. He wanted to scream that it wasn't right, that he had broken in hell. He was different from all the civilians, he didn't deserve someone to save his neck.

"You're different." Cas echoed his thoughts, but in an entirely different tone. It left Dean with the impression that Castiel had meant something very specific but had given away none of it. Dean watched him disappear into thin air. Huh.

On The Head Of A Pin

Dean was psyching himself up. Outwardly, this involved straightening his leather jacket, running a hand through his hair and checking where his gun was. Inwardly, though, he was putting pieces of his mind aside, protecting them behind a wall. The part left in control was primal. Vicious. It took what it wanted, and right now it wanted revenge. The only thing he was afraid of now was that he would forget to put the other pieces of his mind back. He was practiced at doing this, though. Every one night stand, every friend that died, every bullet hole stitched, he let his instincts take over. They protected him and the rest of him, the pieces up in the attic of his mind, grieved quietly. The only problems occurred when he put everything back together again.

"For what it's worth, I would give anything not to have you do this." Suddenly, there was a hole in the wall he had just erected so carefully. Dean looked up into Castiel's blue eyes - so fucking blue - and saw the first traces of emotion residing there. The angel's earlier words echoed through the attic up there - 'I was getting too close to the humans in my charge. You. They feel I've begun to express emotions. The doorways to doubt.' Dean realized that, to an extent, he was teaching Castiel what it was like to feel. And oh, how he wanted to tell him that, Come on Cas, man, I'm the last person anybody should be learning from.

But instead, he walked through the door and he let all hell loose on Alistair.

They were talking. Arguing. Dean lay in a hospital bed, wires and tubes all over him. All the pieces were falling into place and he hated the picture they were making. "It's not blame that falls on you, Dean, it's fate. The righteous man who begins it is the only one who can finish it. You have to stop it." Cas leaned over him and damn, his bed side manner was lacking.

"Lucifer? The apocalypse? What does that mean? Hey! Don't you go disappearing on me, you son of a bitch. What does that mean!" Dean was furious. Sure, underneath it was exhaustion, fear and guilt, but mostly he was furious. He couldn't even raise his voice, though, his body was so damn weak. As a consequence, his words were soft. Sad, almost.

"I don't know."

"Bull."

"I don't. Dean, they don't tell me much. I know our fate rests with you." He fought the urge to laugh at the sincerity on Cas' face. This sucker actually believed Dean could help them. He had faith in Dean. Just like the faith anyone had ever had in him, it was misplaced. He couldn't hold out in hell, he couldn't hold the weight of all the fucking responsibility his Dad put on him and he couldn't even hold off of the whiskey.

"Well, then you guys are screwed. I can't do it, Cas. It's too big. Alastair was right. I'm not all here. I'm not—I'm not strong enough. Well, I guess I'm not the man either of our dads wanted me to be. Find someone else. It's not me." Without his knowing quite what was happening, tears slid down Dean Winchester's cheeks. He turned away, but he knew Cas could still see him. Knew that in fact, he was probably staring at Dean like he did so frequently. An angel of the Lord was watching Dean cry, and Dean was letting him. Dean asked himself The Question then, but he didn't bother listening to see if he answered.

The Monster At The End Of This Book

Dean was worried. His little brother was about to do something stupid, yet again. Lilith would destroy them all over again. Cas, who he'd just been yelling at, was of no use. His family was fucked and an ultra-powerful angel wouldn't even lift a finger to help. "You must understand why I can't intercede. Prophets are very special. They're protected."

Understand, my ass. "I get that."

"If anything threatens a prophet, anything at all, an archangel will appear to destroy that threat. Archangels are fierce. They're absolute. They're heaven's most terrifying weapon."

Dean's anger slowed its pace at Castiel's words. "And these archangels, they're tied to prophets?" Understanding lapped over him in small waves - no dramatic foaming crash, just a cool reminder of the ocean.

"Yes." Castiel's eyes were wide.

"So if a prophet was in the same room as a demon..." Dean tested.

"Then the most fearsome wrath of heaven would rain down on that demon." Castiel paused, a smile trying to come to his lips and failing. "Just so you understand... Why I can't help." Oh, that sly son of a bitch. Cas was helping him, and whether it was a result of Dean's threats or something else, Dean didn't know. But Cas was helping him anyway, and that was what mattered. No, he reminded himself. Sam's gonna be all right, and that's what matters. "Thanks, Cas." He muttered.

"Good luck." The angel's last words played on his mind, providing a distraction from the demons dancing round and round in his mind.

The Rapture

Castiel was back in his vessel's body. Dean was shaken, to say the least. Face bleeding, standing next to a brother who drank demon blood, and Cas walking away. Amelia looked up at him as he turned, and a single muscle in his jaw twitched. "Cas, hold up. What were you gonna tell me?"

There was something different in Cas' eyes, something... Broken, almost. "I learned my lesson while I was away, Dean. I serve heaven. I don't serve man, and I certainly don't serve you." Something was wrong. Something had to be wrong. Dean clenched his hand into a fist. Maybe he'd only thought Cas had been learning emotions, even starting to ally with the Winchesters. Maybe he'd been a stone wall this whole time. His nails dug deeper into his palm.

When The Levee Breaks

Shadows stretched all around, springing up from broken cars or piles of scrap metal. Dean stood in the dark, praying his ass off and wishing he'd had more to drink. Without warning, Castiel appeared, standing some distance off. "Well, it's about time. I've been screaming myself hoarse out here for about two and a half hours now."

"What do you want?" Castiel's face was hidden. He leaned against a tower of rusted metal, light falling on each side of him.

"You can start with what the hell happened in Illinois." Cas was walking toward him now, slowly, in that insufferably cocky I-Dragged-You-Out-Of-Hell-I-Can-Throw-You-Back-In way.

"What do you mean?"

"Cut the crap. You were gonna tell me something." His brother was locked in a steel room beneath his feet, going through withdrawal symptoms from a demonic addiction. Dean Winchester was not in the mood for angels to lie to his face.

"Well, nothing of import." Castiel circled around him, footsteps crunching on the gravel.

"You got ass-reamed in heaven but it was not of import?" Dean thought he saw a twitch of confusion at the word ass-reamed, and almost laughed. Then he remembered how friggin' weird Cas was acting. Even if he would've tolerated Dean laughing at his apparent innocence before, he sure as hell wouldn't now.

"Dean, I can't. I'm sorry. Get to the reason you really called me. It's about Sam, right?" Man, what had they done to him? How could you break an angel? But Dean had to focus.

"Can he do it? Kill Lilith, stop the apocalypse?"

"Possibly, yes. But as you know, he'd have to take certain steps."

"Crank up the hell-blood regimen."

"Consuming the amount of blood it would take to kill Lilith would change your brother forever. Most likely, he would become the next creature that you would feel compelled to kill. There's no reason this would have to come to pass, Dean. We believe it's you, Dean, not your brother. The only question for us is whether you're willing to accept it. Stand up and accept your role. You are the one who will stop it." Castiel looked at Dean for a long time, light beaming down one side of his face.

"If I do this, Sammy doesn't have to?" Sacrificing himself for his brother was... Fine. Nothing he hadn't done before.

"If it gives you comfort to see it that way." Oh, the sonofabitch. Like you care about my comfort.

"God, you're a dick these days." Dean sighed and walked away. But after so many steps, he stopped. Like a dog chained to a fence. There was nowhere he could go. He had to help Sam. "Fine, I'm in."

"You give yourself over wholly to the service of God and his angels?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, exactly."

"Say it."

The command was piercing, cutting through Dean's initial thought of, What, am I taking a fraternity vow? "I give myself over wholly to serve God and you guys." Oh, how bad he wanted to challenge this Cas. To grab him by the shoulders and shake him until he... Well, until he was less of a dick again.

"You swear to follow his will and his word as swiftly and obediently as you did your own father's?"

Dean uttered a silent Fuck you. His Dad mighta been fucked up but at least he didn't stand by and let the world go to hell. Unlike God, John Winchester had actually tried to make a difference. "Yes, I swear. Now what?" Well, now he'd done it. There was no way back out.

"Now you wait, and we call on you when it's time." And with that, Cas was gone again. You never stick around, do you? Dean shook himself. It made him sick to have to ask himself The Question, sick because Cas had never seemed farther from human, sick because goddamnit he should be taking care of his brother, not examining his innermost feelings about a dickish angel. But ask he did. No. I don't. No. He squeezed his eyes shut and let everything fade to black.

Lucifer Rising

Dean tried to call Sam's number, for what felt like the thousandth time. A gravelly voice rang out behind him. "You can't reach him, Dean. You're outside your coverage zone."

"What are you gonna do to Sam?" This felt good. No more asking stupid questions about love, just simple anger that someone was gonna hurt the only family he had left. It was so... Easy.

"Nothing. He's gonna do it to himself."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Castiel bowed his head, but offered no answer. "Oh, right, right. Got to toe the company line. Why are you here, Cas?"

"We've been through much together, you and I. And I just wanted to say, I'm sorry it ended like this." Dean realized, through a fog of frustration, that in Castiel's eternal life, Dean was probably the one person the angel would ever have to say goodbye to. And this was it. This was the goodbye. Cas would walk away, Dean would become Michael's walking puppet and the earth would go up in flames.

"Sorry?" Dean's fist launched itself at Cas' objectively handsome face. A normal man would've been sent flying, but Dean was rewarded only by a throbbing pain in his hand. Cas didn't react. "It's Armageddon, Cas. You need a bigger word than 'sorry'."

"Try to understand - this is long foretold. This is your..." Cas was almost pleading with Dean now, he could tell.

"Destiny? Don't give me that holy crap. Destiny, God's plan... It's all a bunch of lies, you poor, stupid son of a bitch! It's just a way for your bosses to keep me and keep you in line! You know what's real? People, families - that's real. And you're gonna watch them all burn?" Dean flung words at Castiel wildly, in the hope that one of them might reach him.

Cas' sadness was in the middle of a metamorphosis into anger. "What is so worth saving? I see nothing but pain here. I see inside you. I see your guilt, your anger, confusion. In paradise, all is forgiven. You'll be at peace. Even with Sam."

Dean had often thought the same thing, while loading his gun or cleaning a blade. Just one wrong turn with this thing and it could all be over. But now wasn't the time for self-loathing or any of his regular crap. "You can take your peace... and shove it up your lily-white ass. 'Cause I'll take the pain and the guilt. I'll even take Sam as is. It's a lot better than being some Stepford bitch in paradise. This is simple, Cas! No more crap about being a good soldier. There is a right and there is a wrong here, and you know it."

Cas turned to walk away, but Dean grabbed his arm and slammed him back around. "You know it! You were gonna help me once, weren't you? You were gonna warn me about all this, before they dragged you back to Bible camp. Help me - now. Please."

"What would you have me do?" Cas asked slowly. It was the voice of a man who is being broken down from all directions, who has no faith left to hide under.

"Get me to Sam. We can stop this before it's too late." Dean begged.

"I do that, we will all be hunted. We'll all be killed."

"If there is anything worth dying for... this is it." Dean felt a flare of hope. Maybe, just maybe... Cas shook his head and stared at Dean's hiking boots. In that instant, all hope vanished. "You spineless..." Dean turned, unable to stare the stony angel in the face a second longer. "Soulless..." He was done for. Cas wouldn't help him, and he was done for. "Sonofabitch. What do you care about dying? You're already dead. We're done."

"Dean-"

"We're done!" Dean shouted, and when he looked behind him, Castiel was gone. In a way, he couldn't believe it.

It was a few hours later that Castiel's hand wrapped around Dean's mouth, a blade held against his throat. Dean's eyes wide, he watched Cas' every move. Slowly, so very slowly, Cas removed his hand. Without a word, he cut deep into his own arm and began to draw a sigil in his own blood on the wall. Sparks of elation flew through Dean. Somehow, he had gained the angel's loyalty. He watched as Castiel drew silently, teeth gritted against pain. I could kiss you right now. Dean was angrily startled out of his thoughts by Zachariah's voice at the door. In fact, he then told himself he'd never thought about kissing Cas in the first place. The fact remained, though, Cas had rebelled for him. And together, they somehow had to face down the apocalypse. The world's about to end, maybe I should have kissed you. Another thought he wouldn't admit to. Besides, he had a demon bitch to kill.


	3. And Mr Comatose

Spans 5.01 to 5.13. My next chapter should finish Season 5 with the chronicle of how Dean fell for Cas :)

 **This one's a bit shorter but I thought I'd post it anyway. Free To Be You and Me is such a Destielesque episode, I love it! Comments welcome**

Good God Y'all

Oh, the poor stupid son of a bitch. He couldn't honestly still believe. Dean stared at him, getting more pissed off by the minute. Why couldn't he just see it for what it was? Maybe being an angel you just had some kind of inbuilt faith that you couldn't ever lose. Might be nice, actually. Dean was pulled out of his downward spiraling thoughts.

"With God's help, we can win." Cas insisted, and Dean stared off into the blank white walls of the hospital.

"It's a pipe dream, Cas." _The sooner you realize that, the better._ In Dean's experience, it was better not to get your hopes up in the first place, but once you had them up, you should get them down as quick as possible. It just avoided problems.

"I killed two angels this week. My brothers. I'm hunted. I rebelled. And I did it, all of it, for you, and you failed. You and your brother destroyed the world, and I lost everything, for nothing." Sam looked at the ground and Dean felt something inside himself falling. _Thanks for reminding me._ "So keep your opinions to yourself."

Dean wasn't sure there was anything to say. Bobby finally spoke up, "You didn't drop in just to tear us a new hole. What is it you want?"

Everything was going wrong. Cas was heading off on some epic but doomed quest for God, with Dean's amulet hanging around his neck. And leaving him with only the words, 'I'll be in touch', Cas is gone again. Damnit.

Free To Be You and Me

Dean sat in the impala, mulling the past few days over. Sam's still MIA, and he wonders if what he just said to Cas is true. _Now that I'm alone, hell, I'm happy._ Cas had left the shotgun seat empty with a flutter of his wings and Dean was really, truly alone. His smile faltered somewhat. He shrugs his leather jacket up his shoulders, feeling it cling to him almost like a lover. God, Cas was crazy. But somehow, what he'd said had been true. They really had had _fun_ together, and that wasn't a thing Dean had often. Couldn't believe the guy was thousands of years old though, and was still a virgin. Not only that, but after that long of an existence, Dean was the only one he could turn to for help on his quest for God? The poor schmuck. Then there was his atrocious undercover abilities. Dean still didn't understand how the guy could go from not understanding how a badge worked to how fucking badass he'd been with Raphael. And how terrified he'd been in the brothel.

Dean's mind was stuck on how the wind had run through his hair when they'd fled the brothel, and he'd collapsed laughing against the impala. Cas had been so confused and he'd smiled anyway and how the fuck could a celestial being have so many layers all in one? Dean wasn't sure he'd ever figure the sonofabitch out. Especially not if he kept disappearing all the time. His smile vanished again.

The End

The shock of the present moment and night air forced Dean to come to his senses. Dean turned to see Cas standing behing him, the familiar trench coat draping over his shoulders. "That's pretty nice timing, Cas." He remarked.

"We had an appointment." Cas replied.

Oh God, God, it was good to be back. Dean grinned at Cas, and laid a hand on his shoulder. The Croatoan virus, the shitty log cabins, the Cas who took drugs and had orgies, Lucifer in Sam's body… it had all vanished. "Don't ever change." He said without quite realizing he'd said it aloud.

The Song Remains The Same

Dean's gaze lingered on Cas' passed out form, which he'd laid carefully on the motel bed. He poured two drinks and handed one to Sam. "Well… this is it."

"This is what?" Sam took a ginger sip.

"Team Free Will. One ex-blood junkie, one dropout with six bucks to his name, and Mr. Comatose over there. It's awesome." He was being sarcastic. Really, he was. But somehow, in that moment, he accepted that the entire world was against them. All he had was Sam and Cas and they would probably lose. Before then, Cas had been the strangest sort of ally, but just then, he was part of Team Free Will.

 _Don't you dare fall in love with him._


	4. You Suck At Goodbyes

**Apologies, accidentally uploaded a much later chapter. This is the correct Chapter 4.**

My Bloody Valentine

"Oh, you can smirk and joke and lie to your brother, lie to yourself, but not to me! I can see inside you, Dean. I can see how broken you are, how defeated. You can't win, and you know it. But you just keep fighting. Just... keep going through the motions. You're not hungry, Dean, because inside, you're already...dead."

Dean stood in the darkened cafeteria, another quip already at hand. Sure, it seemed like he, his brother and Cas were about to be killed by a horseman of the apocalypse, but that was no excuse for not having a witty retort. It didn't matter that as far as he was concerned, Famine was probably right. The fires of hell had burnt his soul, and now that he was up topside where things were actually alive, it didn't do anything except highlight how blackened he was inside.

Another explanation occurred to him some months later, while a shotgun shell exploded from the gun in his hands. Blood spurted from the monster in front of him, and with the hard kick of the gun against his shoulder, it occurred to him. Maybe he had just been hungry for something he'd never let himself have. Of course, he kicked the thought aside like he kicked the bloody corpse into the ditch. Not in a million years.

Dark Side of the Moon

Cas leaned against the motel divider, staring up at the ugly ceiling. Dean distracted himself from the heartbroken angel's face by chucking gear into his duffle bag.

"Maybe… maybe Joshua was lying," he suggested. The last straw grasping of a hopeless man.

"I don't think he was, Cas. I'm sorry." Sam sighed. Dean was lost for words. That's right, Dean goddamn Winchester, lost for words.

Cas walked a few paced into the entry hall. "You son of a bitch. I believed in…" his voice broke, face tilted towards the sky, begging for something, anything. Dean watched, insides twisting inside him. This was something akin to how it'd felt when he'd found out about Adam. John Winchester's other life. His lie. "I don't need this anymore. It's worthless." Cas tossed the amulet to Dean, who caught it effortlessly.

"Cas, wait." Sam sensed Cas' imminent disappearance too late, and was rewarded with only the sound of wings and an empty space where he'd been. _Where does he have left to go?_ Dean watched as the amulet dropped into the trashcan, and as the familiar metal form left his fingertips, he grasped a little more of how Cas felt. Lost. Utterly, desperately, lost. Maybe Cas would've been better off if Dean had never made him doubt, never chipped down the walls of his faith. _I'm sorry, Cas. Really damn sorry._

99 Problems

Cas sat on the bench behind Dean as he slammed the Impala's glossy black trunk. Dean tossed him a bottle of aspirin.

"How many should I take?"

It struck him just then how very inhuman Cas was. Either inhuman or childish. No idea even how many aspirins to take. "You? You should probably just down the whole bottle."

Cas grimaced. "Thanks.

"Yeah, don't mention it. Yeah, I've been there. I'm a big expert on deadbeat dads. So…Yeah, I get it. I know how you feel." Dean wasn't good at having friends, probably as a side effect of never having had any for long. He was pretty sure expressing empathy was a common theme, but then that sounded a bit chick-flick-esque, so he wasn't really sure.

"How do you manage it?" Damnit, he'd almost preferred it when Cas was a righteous asshole to this newly broken version.

"On a good day, you get to kill a whore." Dean smirked. He asked himself right then, _Do I love him? Is that why it friggin hurts this much to see him like this?_

 _No. We're just… friends. I guess._

God, having friends was a tricky bastard of a pain in the ass.

Point of No Return

"You pray too loud." The bizarrely bearded street preacher's voice was cut off abruptly as Castiel touched his shoulder. Dean's eyes widened as Castiel grabbed the collar of his green jacket and hauled him into the nearby alleyway. Cas threw him up against the bricks like he was a rag doll. Cas wasn't even yelling, but the anger in his voice almost bled through the air onto Dean's skin. He punched Dean several times before Dean could gasp out, "What, are you crazy?"

"I rebelled for this?! So that you could surrender to them?" Cas' fist slammed into his face, knucklebones drawing blood as his head knocked back against hard stone.

"Cas, please…" There wasn't any point in fighting back. There was nothing to fight for.

"I gave everything for you. And this is what you give to me." He held Dean's head, almost lolling from the beating he received, and looked straight down into his eyes. Dean wasn't sure he'd ever seen blue smoulder that hot before. Dean slumped to the ground, the stench of the dark alley coming to his almost broken nose. He wouldn't have fought back against Cas anyway, not after everything they'd been through. What made it worse, though, was that Cas was _right._ Dean had more or less sworn to stand by Sam and Cas and here he was letting them down like everything else he'd cared about. Ever. Sam'd let him get away with it; well sure, he'd try to stop it, but in the final moment, he'd let Dean go with that sad puppy dog eye glance.

"Do it. Just do it!" _Kill me. Before I let you down._

A single muscle in Cas' jaw twitched as he watched Dean, slumped on the wet concrete. His fist clenched and the moment stretched for longer than it should have. He reached down to touch Dean, and was met with a flinch before Dean slipped into oddly blissful unconsciousness. _Damnit Cas. Why'd you have to keep me fighting?_

Swan Song

Sam was gone. Sam was just so fucking gone. On top of everything, Cas, who'd healed him, brought Bobby back and had been the only thing whose existence he could cling onto like a rock in the moments after Sam fucking cast himself into hell - he was going back to heaven. After everything. At least he had his faith back, and he was just gonna swan off to be Heaven's new sheriff, leaving Dean as the miserable alcoholic motherfucker he was down here on Earth. Dean supposed it wasn't fair, really. Sam had been his rock, and now he was gone he'd figured Cas for his replacement. Though he wasn't sure what having a rebellious angel to keep you grounded would really do for him.

Cas startled him out of his thoughts. "You got what you asked for, Dean. No paradise. No hell. Just more of the same. I mean it, Dean. What would you rather have? Peace or freedom?" Light played over his jaw and cheek, eyes sparkling in the dark. It wasn't fair how normal they both looked right now. Dean sitting in the impala just like always, Cas' stupidly tousled hair. They should be broken and bruised and bloody. And damnit, the sonofabitch had a point.

Dean looked back at Cas, only to find an empty seat. His face fell, and he closed his eyes. He wanted to keep them shut just then, just to ignore everything that had happened. Finally, they opened to the forest road in front of him.

"Well, you really suck at goodbyes, you know that?"


	5. Thoughts of Cas

Mommy Dearest

Was Bobby seriously suggesting Cas was tricking them? Tricking _him_? "Bobby, this is Cas we're talking about." He turned to Sam. "Do you believe this?" Sam looked down and didn't answer. "Sam?"

Sam ran a hand through his ever-growing locks and sighed. "Look it's probably nothing, it's just... You know what? You're right. It's - it's probably nothing."

Oh yeah, you're a great liar, Sammy.

Even in Dean's fast paced, action and monster gut packed life, there were plenty of occasions where he'd had time to reflect. Driving alone in the Impala to the nearest bar, the dark small town streets flying by him. As he closed his eyes, Sam laying on the bed next to him, but couldn't fall asleep for hours. While a monster burned in front of his eyes or another shot of whiskey went down the hatch. Now that he had no time, though, now that everything he'd built was hanging by a thread, this was the time he chose to sift through all his memories. Then again, he' guess he'd never been particularly smart.

Cas had been a friend. An often disappearing, socially awkward, emotionally blocked, easily confused, could blow you to smithereens in an instant, ultra-powerful friend with a weird ass trench coat, sure, but a friend nonetheless. He'd _rebelled_ for Dean, beat him to a bloody pulp and helped them save the goddamn world. Sometimes he was a dick. Lately, he'd been preoccupied with his angel civil war. Dean knew he was losing. Somehow, though, he couldn't imagine Castiel actually being beaten. Totally. Utterly. No. Cas would win the war, because Cas... it was like Cas' soul was made out of metal. Dean shook off the overly girly observation.

All the times Cas had disappeared mid-sentence, had refused to help him with Sam's soul... something had to be wrong. Cas was his friend. They'd fought a war together. Cas was a dick, but he wasn't that much of a dick. Dean's brow furrowed. Maybe Bobby was right. Maybe there was something really, deeply wrong wit the angel. Dean leaned against the wood paneling, forehead pressing against the cold surface. It smelled like pine.

Not for the first time, he wondered, _who the hell are you, Cas?_

He thought of Cas, staring down at the computer screen, face lit up in the blue glow. Finally he'd asked, "If the pizza man truly loves this babysitter, why does he keep slapping her rear? Perhaps she's done something wrong." Dean had nearly spit out his coffee. "You're watching porn? Why?" He'd managed. Cas' monotone reply came, "It was there." Dean's mouth quirked as he remembered educating Cas, that you don't watch porn in a room of dudes, and you don't talk about it. "Well, now he's got a boner," he'd announced to Sam. Sam's face had been priceless. Dean had felt like laughing until he spat out a few of his teeth. What kind of age-old being got confused when he got a boner? Just, what the fuck, Cas?

He thought of Cas, never letting him win an argument when he knew Dean was wrong. They'd been arguing about putting Sam's soul back in his body. "Or we fail, or Sam suffers horrifically." After how fucking distant he'd been, refusing to answer Dean's prayers at all, the idea that he cared about Sam suffering was so refreshing Dean let him have the last word. Every time there was a glimmer in humanity in Cas, there was an answer spark of... pride in Dean. Pride. Yeah.

He thought of Cas, pushing Meg up against the green wall, hands twisting through her hair, kissing her with more passion than Cas had ever shown before. Dean had lost total control of his face, his mouth falling partway open. Cas, saying, "I learnt that from the pizza man." They were about to lay seige to Crowley's lame-ass demon castle, and Cas was kissing a demon. _Damn._

He thought of Cas, saying how he wished circumstances were different. How much of the time, he'd rather be on Earth. Dean had replied with some kind of understanding shit about how they were friends. His mind though, flooded with the question, _what would Cas do if he was here, all the time?_ Hell, what did Cas even _want_ to do?

He thought of Cas, telling him and Sam how he'd basically been down with Balthazar's plan of using them as a diversion just so he could have a better chance against Raphael. God, he hated how Cas always thought of the big picture now. It seemed every day, something inside of Cas was getting twisted away from humanity, away from the Team Free Will Dean had once relied on. "Friggin angels."

He thought of Cas, and what Balthazar had said. "You have me confused with the other angel - you know, the one in the dirty trenchcoat who's in love with you." Huh.

He thought of Cas, telling them to simply 'kill fate'. Because for them, that was just another day in the office. Cas, saying, "You're the ones who taught me that you can make your own destiny. You don't have to be ruled by fate. You can choose freedom. I still believe that that's something worth fighting for. I just wanted you to understand that." Who did this goddamn angel think he was? Telling them it was fine to put their asses on the line if he won over heaven, but the next waxing lyrical about the lessons in freedom Sam and Dean had tought him? _Yeah, screw you, Cas._ No matter how hard he tried though, the thought was still mildly affectionate. Cas hadn't forgotten about freedom, not completely.

He thought of Cas, tilting his head to the side and saying, "I was never in your..." before trailing off in a confused manner. What a weirdo.

He thought of Cas, killing Lenore by simply placing a hand on her forehead, white light flooding out of her eyes before she disintegrated in a storm of ashes. Cas, saying, "We needed to move this along." Dean's mouth had gone completely dry as Cas' matter-of-fact blue eyes stared into the distance.

He thought of Cas, looking upset after Dean told him that without his powers, he was essentially a 'baby in a trench coat'. Cas, not knowing how to load a gun. Dean wasn't sure why Bobby spent all his time calling Sam and him idjits, Cas was clearly the real idjit.

He thought of Cas, trying to stop him from saving two little kids because of the 'big picture'. Nausea rose up in his stomach.

He thought of Cas, yelling Dean's name at the top of his lungs as Eve bit him. Face twisted in fear and anger. In amidst the triumph and general smugness he felt as Eve died choking on his blood, there was a twinge of guilt for putting that fear on the angel's face. Not just Cas, of course, Sam and Bobby too. Right.

Dean thought of Cas. Humans might confuse Cas, but that angel confused the living fuck out of Dean. One day he was ice cold, dangerous, a righteous ass, the next he was almost humanly awkward, warm, ready to lay down and die by Dean's side. Now that he had no time left to think, he had to reconcile everything into one picture, to finally understand. He had to decide whether to trust Cas. Before he could do, that, he had to dispell the uncomfortable lead weight in the pit of his stomach. Dean bashed his head against the wall, hard. Hot pain flooded into his forehead, rewarding for him for his efforts. God, he hated this bit.

 _Am I in love with him? Is that why this is so fucking hard?_

 _He's a friend. I'm loyal. I don't have that many left. That's all. That's all._


	6. Wishing Well

The Man Who Knew Too Much

"Y'know, he's our friend... and we're lying to him through our teeth."

"This is Cas, guys. I mean, when there was no one... And we were stuck - and I mean really stuck - he broke ranks. He has gone to the mat cut and bleeding for us so many freakin' times. This is Cas! Don't we owe him the benefit of the doubt at least?"

He couldn't stand it, them all standing around and talking about Cas like this. It was the same feeling he got every time Sam had bitched about Dad. Someone who'd pulled you out of a hundred fires, some literal, someone who'd jump off the high dive onto concrete for you, someone you trusted without even thinking, and something was twisting all the memories you had of them, making them bitter. Not even the good kind of bitter - more like shit beer. How did this even happen? _Fuck._

Demons attacking at Ellsworth's, Cas smiting them with the holy fire of heaven (maybe just the holy fire of Cas, but that didn't matter), and Bobby apologizing to Cas all melted together to create a giant blur of _it's gonna be all right_ in Dean's mind. It was like to the warm fuzz you get after a few hours of drinking. Not too much detail, just _all right. It's gonna be all right._ In a flash, it was over.

"Superman going to the dark side." Cas smiled a little. "I'm still just Castiel."

 _Oh buddy, I wish you were._ The pain was stark, stabbing into all his scars, making the handprint on his shoulder buzz. The Question was gone. It was a wonder he managed to reply to Cas, cause inside his head, there weren't any words left. Just dead weight.

"It sounds so simple, when you say it like that. Where were you when I needed to hear it?" Cas asked, his voice plaintive, holy fire jetting up around the edges of his coat. If Dean hadn't been so angry, Cas' expression would've made him clap a hand to Cas' shoulder and say, _Hey man, it's OK._ But all Dean wanted to do was slam Cas against the wall and hit him and shake him senseless. Like Cas had once done to him. Remind him of his GODDAMN PRIORITIES, because fuck, they were the only friends Cas had. Tell him what a child he really was and have Cas look up at him, face bloody, and have him finally understand how utterly he'd fucked things up.

"I was there. Where were you? You should've come to us for help, Cas." His voice was on the verge of breaking.

"Maybe." A flare of hope went through Dean, but was extinguished just as quickly by the rush of wind outside. Black smoke was rushing towards them, blotting out the daylight. "It's too late now. I can't turn back now. I can't."

"It's not too late. Damnit Cas! We can fix this." _Will you just run with me now, you poor stupid bastard? Run. We'll fix it. We'll clean up your mess. Just run, now._

"Dean, it's not broken!" Castiel shouted. "Run. You have to run now. Run!"

Dean rushed out the door, Bobby and Sam on his heels. It hit him as the cold outside air smacked his skin, that it was really, truly, too late. So many friends had slipped away in blood, death instantaneous. This was worse, so much worse. Until the moment he left Cas in the house, he'd believe he could make Cas turn around. See the error of his ways. Cas had rebelled against heaven, against God, all for Dean. Cas' words. _Guess it turns out I can't save him from himself. I'll have to settle for saving the world from him._ Cas was a monster now and this was another hunt. He repeated the words over and over again in his mind, until he thought it hurt just a little less.

Despite his earlier resolve, when Cas appeared in whiskey drenched darkness of Bobby's living room, he didn't reach for his gun. Maybe it was how vulnerable Cas looked in the moonlight. It'd feel like killing an innocent in cold blood, even if that was far from the truth. Too damn far.

"I'm doing this for you, Dean. I'm doing this because of you." Cas seemed so desperate to make him understand, but to tell the truth Dean was sure that he understood a damn sight better than Cas did.

"Because of me. Yeah. You got to be kidding me."

"You're the one who taught me that freedom and free will -"

Dean cut him off bitterly. "You're a freakin' child, you know that? Just because you can do what you want doesn't mean that you get to do whatever you want!"

"I know what I'm doing, Dean."

Fine. Last ditch effort. Even monsters deserve a last chance, right? "I'm not gonna logic you, okay? I'm saying don't...Just 'cause. I'm asking you not to. That's it." Dean swallowed. What the fuck was he doing? Was he just trying to save the world by telling Cas pretty words, or was he just baring his soul because what else could he do? Apocalypse, here. Again.

"I don't understand."

 _You never do._ "Look, next to Sam, you and Bobby are the closest things I have to family - that you are like a brother to me. So, if I'm asking you not to do something... You got to trust me, man."

"Or what?" Cas asked.

"Or I'll have to do what I have to do to stop you." Dean stared at him, hard.

"You can't, Dean. You're just a man. I'm an angel."

"I don't know. I've taken some pretty big fish."

"I'm sorry, Dean."

"Well, then I'm sorry, too, then."

And that was how it ended. Just like that. Dean guessed that was what you'd call a tragedy.

Let It Bleed

"I always come when you call." Cas was still talking, trying desperately to convince Dean, but he couldn't hear a single word. _I always come when you call._ His blue eyes glistened as he stared at Dean. The worst thing was it was true. Cas always came when he called, always saved his ass. And he'd be damned if he didn't want to believe in Cas, but it just wasn't gonna happen. Dean swallowed. "Trust your plan to pop purgatory?" He scoffed. Cas was just trying to get him to stand down, exactly like Crowley. It didn't mean anything. He'd stand against the apocalypse every damn time, with Cas or against Cas. When he finally disappeared to the tune of 'kiss my ass', Dean pressed his fist to his lips, biting his tongue. The tears held back behind his eyes were bitter, aching. Dean shook his head. _Nope. Not gonna cave in._ And so he went on, trying to ignore the lingering whisper of "I always come when you call."

 _I wish this changed anything._ Dean's hand gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. It took everything he had not to let the tears in his eyes fall. "If you ever mention Lisa and Ben to me again, I will break your nose."

"Dean -" his brother objected from by his side.

"I'm not kidding." God, it was a huge, tangled mess of pain. The edges of anger and sadness and loss and hopelessness and the desire for whiskey blurred together until he all he knew how to do was drive. Lisa had been dying. It had been all his fault, but somehow it had been Cas' too. Cas, though, Cas had been the one who'd healed Lisa. _I wish to hell this changed anything._

The Man Who Knew Too Much

"This is exactly what Cas wants. For you to fall to pieces," Bobby muttered while pouring him a drink. Sam lay unmoving on the bed behind them. Man, he'd been in some pretty damn dark places. Hell, he'd been in hell. But this, this was rock bottom. _No,_ Dean thought miserably. _It's not. My Cas never wanted this._

Dean stood before Cas, his hand shaking slightly.

 _You've always been a good friend of mine, but you're always saying farewell._

Cas had all the souls from purgatory inside that friggin trench coat and Jesus, there was something wrong in his head. Dean could tell just from looking in those too-blue eyes.

 _And the only time that you're satisfied is with your feet in the Wishing Well._

"Listen to me. Listen, I know there's a lot of bad water under the bridge, but we were family once. I'd have died for you. I almost did a few times. So if that means anything to you..."

 _But I know what you're wishing for_

"Please. I've lost Lisa, I've lost Ben, and now I've lost Sam. Don't make me lose you too."

 _Love and a peaceful world._

" You don't need this kind of juice anymore, Cas. Get rid of it before it kills us all."

 _Throw down your gun, you might shoot yourself._

He wasn't even sure whether he was sweet talking Cas to save Sam and Bobby and the rest of the world or to stop Cas from doing something even damn stupider.

 _Or is that what you're trying to do?_

He couldn't lose the world and Cas. One was enough.

 _Put up a fight you believe to be right and someday the sun will shine through._

"You're just saying that because I won. Because you're afraid." Sam crept up behind Cas, silently drawing the angel blade.

 _You've always got something to hide, something you just can't tell._

"You're not my family, Dean. I have no family." Dean flinched as Sam sunk the angel blade into Cas' back.

 _And the only time that you're satisfied is with your feet in the Wishing Well._

Sam groaned as Cas pulled the angel blade cleanly out, with not a trace of blood to show. "I'm glad you made it, Sam. But the angel blade won't work, because I'm not an angel anymore. I'm your new God. A better one. So you will bow down and profess your love unto me, your Lord. Or I shall destroy you." Damnit Cas. DAMNIT Cas.

 _But I know what you're wishing for_

 _Love and a peaceful world._


	7. Cursed Or Not

Meet The New Boss

"He's gone, Dean." Dean stared down at Castiel's prone body, cold and breathless and curiously vulnerable on the stone floor.

He'd known, of course. This was the way it had to end. The moment Cas had downed a tub of virgins' blood and god knows what else, it was over. Really, that' was probably a turning point for a lot of people, Dean joked to himself. It wasn't funny, though. Nothing was funny, because they'd saved the world, and Cas was gone. "Damnit. Cas, you child. Why didn't you listen to me?" He hadn't realized quite how raw it'd feel.

Cas' eyes flickered open. "Cas?! Hey! Hey!" Cas propped himself up. "Okay. Alright."

"That was unpleasant." If he hadn't been so shocked, he would've laughed and never stopped. Cas was back with his stupid understatements.

"Let's get him up. Easy there." Dean gripped him by the shoulder and gently lifted him to his feet. Dean stared, wide eyed, while Bobby and Cas talked, Cas' head hanging down slightly. A fucking miracle was standing in front of him. He'd chosen the world over his best friend and somehow got them both back. Nothing was all right, by any stretch of the world. Cas had fucked everything up royally, but that didn't change what a damn miracle he was, just standing in front of Dean. Saying, "I'm gonna find some way to redeem myself to you."

Hello, Cruel World

"Rest in peace. If that's in the cards," Bobby said. _I guess that's the kind of eulogy you get for befriending the Winchesters,_ Dean thought sadly as he watched the ripples spread out through the lake. He folded the wet trench coat in his arms. He knew it hadn't even really been Cas' coat, it had been Jimmy Novak's. Somehow, though, the trenchcoat was so inexorably part of Cas. Dean's bottom lip quivered. Maybe Cas had worn it as a sign of respect to Jimmy, a salute flag to his sacrifice. _That's something the old Cas would do._ He almost wanted to smile. "Dumb son of a bitch."

"Well, he was friends with us, wasn't he? Can't get much dumber than that. Come on, those things will be coming up for air soon." Dean went with Bobby to the car, but somehow in his mind he still stood there, looking into the lake. Cas had rebelled for him; broken down decades upon centuries upon millenia of angel brainwashing, tossed everything he believed out the window, for him. When Cas learned God wasn't listening, it was like he put his faith in Dean. When Zachariah had showed Dean the future, Cas had stuck with Dean until he fell, becoming not just an orgy loving hippy, but a _human._ Nobody, though, had ever really taught him how to be human. Maybe, Dean thought bitterly, if he'd taught Cas how you survived this ramshackle life stuffed with free will, emotions and mistakes, he'd still be alive. Maybe he wouldn't be carrying his coat around in the back of his Impala and cleaning up his mess.

Death's Door

Sometimes, it felt like the earth he stood on was ripped from under him. Like he couldn't breathe. Like he was so lost he'd forgotten he ever had a home. Dean recognized this feeling eventually as being about to cry. Cas… Cas had been a lot of things. Powerful. Unstable. Loyal. Stupid. By no means was he a rock, something steady you grabbed onto. It was touch and go, weeks spent not knowing if he was alive, and when you finally found him again, you never knew where you'd stand. Somehow, though, he was Dean's rock. He was gone, though. And so was Bobby. Bobby, the ever-present hunter who'd been a better father than his own damn one had. Bobby would never take any of Dean's bull crap. Saw right through it in an instant. He had a little thing called common sense that the Winchesters and Cas… lacked. Bobby, though, Bobby was gone. Everyone he'd held on to… everyone who'd held him up… they were gone. So was the earth under his feet. And Dean started to cry.

The Born Again Identity

Every time he thought Cas was gone for good, he came back. But every time, he came broken, yet another piece gone. _When the apocalypse is over... when Sam's sane again... when there's finally a moment without any blood or guilt... I'll piece you back together, buddy. I swear._ They were riding in the Impala together, the night time highway gliding by outside the window. In a way, Dean was glad Cas didn't remember anything. He thought Cas and he meeting while they were both fully sane would have ended in blood or another goodbye or words that couldn't be unsaid. Hell, probably all three.

"He betrayed you, this dude. He was your friend?" Emmanuel asked slowly.

"Yeah, well, he's gone." Please don't remember, Cas. I can't handle it right now.

"Did you kill him? I sense that you kill a lot of people." Emmanuel, or Cas' face looked lighter than it ever had when he knew who he was. _You're not wrong,_ Dean thought with a sad smirk.

"Honestly, I-I don't know if he is dead. I just know that this... whole thing couldn't be messier. You know, I used to be able to just shake this stuff off. You know, whatever it was. It might take me some time, but... I always could. What Cas did... I just can't – I don't know why." Dean snapped his mouth shut. He'd said too much, and there wasn't any more to say.

Reading is Fundamental

"What are you gonna do, Cas?" Dean asked, his insides twisting in a knot.

"I don't know. Isn't that amazing?" Cas vanished, leaving only the idea of his smile and the flap of wings. Dean swallowed. This hadn't been what he'd wanted. He hadn't wanted Cas, insane and lost. He hadn't wanted to be such a damn dick, Sorry! pawns spilling all over the floor. He hadn't wanted Hester, screaming, "When Castiel first laid a hand on you in Hell, he was lost!" He'd wanted Cas back, beaten and bruised but able to go on. He'd wanted them to end the apocalypse together. He wanted to finally be able to forgive Cas for everything he'd done. Castiel didn't fight, anymore, though. He watched the bees.

Survival of the Fittest

"I'm not good luck, Dean." Cas stood in a pool of sunlight, hands stuck awkwardly in his pockets.

He couldn't get angry at Cas, not again. Not the way he looked right then. "Yeah, but you know what? Bottom of the ninth, and you're the only guy left on the bench... Sorry, but I'd rather have you, cursed or not. And anyway, nut up, all right? We're all cursed. I seem like good luck to you?" This felt better than all the times he'd shot off his mouth at the angel, all the times he'd told him to clean up his mess. It felt... honest, he guessed. It took him a moment to realize Cas was staring at him and actually smiling. "What?"

"Well, I don't want to make you uncomfortable, but I detect a small note of forgiveness." Cas said bashfully.

"Yeah, well, I'm probably gonna die tomorrow, so..." Dean trailed off, looking Cas in the eye. So this is how we end.

"Well, I'll go with you. And I'll do my best."

Dean smiled, and gave a single nod. _It's an all right way to finish things._


	8. Somewhere In Purgatory

Somewhere in Purgatory

When things went haywire, a guy does some pretty crazy stuff. Stuff he never though he woulda done before. But at the end of it, if he comes out the same, just with a few more scars on his hide, well, then it's all the same, isn't it?

That's why Dean figured it didn't matter what happened in Purgatory. He'd scoured the whole monster infested forest looking for that damn angel, practically screaming, "Where's the angel?" That mattered, sure. And it mattered that Cas was sane again, evein if 94% of psychotics did think they were perfectly sane. It mattered that they'd fought side by side with Benny, and it sure as hell mattered that after everything, Cas was still trapped in that godforsaken place.

So what if he'd done something he damn sure oughta regret, but couldn't quite?

Maybe…

Benny had been MIA for a few days, drawing some other vamps off their tails. Cas and he were camping in a grove and it was getting dark. The sun never really set there, the light just ebbed away until there was nothing left. They had been arguing. Dean was so damn pissed with Cas; he'd practically thrown himself in the way of the last Leviathan they'd fought. "Damnit Cas, it's almost like you don't _wanna_ make it out!" Dean roared, turning his back and glaring into the night.

"Dean." Cas' hand touched his shoulder, and it struck Dean how practiced the gesture was. How sure.

He spun around to Cas, and he'd never know what words were rising up on Cas' parted lips, why his eyes looked so sad, because at that moment, Dean grabbed Cas' hand off his shoulder and pulled the other man flush to his body. Their lips collided so bluntly it almost hurt. Dean kissed Cas hard, and all the bitterness he'd felt over the last years poured into that sad, angry kiss. Cas' lips were still against his for a moment. Then he was kissing back, licking at the entrance of Dean's mouth and biting his bottom lip. Dean growled in surprise. The night air was so damn cold and Cas' lips were so hot. The angel's hands grabbed at Dean's shoulder, where his scar was, and at his hips, fingers squeezing tight enough to leave bruises. Dean was past caring when Cas shoved him up against a tree, the bark digging into his back. He could hardly move as Cas pinned him there, stubble grazing over his cheek, lips already swollen.

Dean groaned as Cas rolled their hips together, his cock suddenly painfully hard against Cas'. He nearly tore the angel's trench coat off, letting it fall in a heap at their feet. They took of each other's clothes in a flurry, kissing inbetween, as if they needed it more than air. Cas pulled Dean to him, fingernails scraping up his back as their bare skin finally touched, everywhere. The intimate moment was short lived as they tumbled to the ground. This, this was what Dean loved about Purgatory. It was pure, and it was brutal. You took what you needed to survive. They needed each other, and that was the end of it.

Dean shoved Cas onto his back hard before pinning his arms back and kissing his way down the angel's body. Angry red marks soon decorated his neck and chest. Dean could have continued his journey downwards, taken his time with Cas and sucked him off slow. But that wasn't what he wanted. Cas seemed to know what he craved, and without warning reversed their positions, kissing Dean once, hard and fast before whispering harshly, "Get on your knees." Dean never questioned the order, though maybe in the light of day or in another time he would have. He turned knelt before Cas, subjecting himself to whatever the other man wanted from him, the ground cold on his knees. Cas ran his nails down Dean's back. "Dean," he growled. Dean closed his eyes. Cas thrust deep inside him and they fit together so damn perfect and oh, God, it hurt. Dean let out a strangled cry. Of course Cas hadn't tried to prep him at all, he fucked like he did everything else; straightforward and without apology. Not once did it occur to Dean to ask Cas to stop. It was perfect, in a savage, profound way. Cas was hitting his sweet spot with every slow, hard, thrust. His arms circled around Dean, nails almost drawing blood. He bit down on Dean's shoulder.

"Fuck. Fuck, Cas." He swore softly as Cas moved inside him. He knew they couldn't be too loud. Anything could hear them out here, but he couldn't help it. Cas was slamming balls deep into his ass and it burned so damn good. Castiel reached around, taking Dean's throbbing dick in his hand. Dean groaned as Cas stroked him fast. Sweat began to trickle down his spine. "Damnit. Fuck. Oh, Cas." Pleasure was taking over from the foreign pain and Dean moaned louder. He was losing himself in Cas. Couldn't remember where the edges of him ended and where Cas started. Cas held him close as hot waves of pleasure rolled through him. Dean swore louder, biting his lip and tasting his own blood. He drew breaths in as ragged gasps as he came, Cas' hands on his hipbones the only thing holding him to the ground.

Cas was still pounding deep into him. Dean could hardly stand his violent thrusting, everything felt new and over-sensitive, but he'd take it. Cas was moaning softly, his breath hot on Dean's ear. The noises were so beautifully sinful, he could scarcely believe an angel of the lord was making them. It dimly occurred to Dean, as Cas was crying out his name, that he'd corrupted an angel. It didn't matter, though, because Cas was shooting hot cum inside him and moaning Dean's name and it was everything he'd needed in this damn lonesome place. After Cas came, he pulled out of Dean and sank back onto the ground. Dean gingerly turned around. Cas was staring at him, eyes wide. Dean swallowed and without a word, tossed the trenchcoat at him from the floor before dressing too quickly. He'd probably misbuttoned his shirt.

He glanced back at Cas just once as he made his way back to where they were sleeping. Cas was holding the trenchcoat to himself in the same position he'd caught it in, blue eyes a swirl of some unknown emotion. _It doesn't matter anyway,_ Dean told himself as he started to sharpen his knife.

Yeah, so what if it happened once? If it had happened again, every time they were alone in the forsaken pine trees? It didn't matter. Maybe it was just some half crazed dream. Never happened. And if it had, it hadn't meant anything, anyway. Just two guys taking what they needed to survive, somewhere in Purgatory.


	9. Goodbye Stranger

What's Up, Tiger Mommy?

"Hello, Dean." With those words, every already broken piece inside him shattered into spinning, shining fragments. Dean looked up, eyes wide, into the mirror. Cas' face might be covered in a beard and smeared with dirt, but those eyes were unmistakeable. "Cas," he breathed out. _Don't fall in love with him. You've screwed yourself over enough, damnit. Don't. Just don't._

A Little Slice of Kevin

I did not leave you there." The words fell out of Dean's mouth, so much softer than he had intended them to be. That was it. That was the moment it all came crashing down around his ears. His first thought, laced with romantic and tragic undertones, was Fuck. It was shortly followed by, Oh fuck and Fuck, what have I done? and finally, Holy fuck. Literally.

He shoved his hands in the pockets of his worn leather jacket, staring at the concrete for a few seconds. He needed to have himself under control. That meant he couldn't keep thinking about how stupidly gorgeous Cas looked in the moonlight or the way his eyes shone or the agony inside Dean's chest when Castiel looked into his soul and said, "You think this is your fault?"

Fuck. Contrary to popular belief, Dean Winchester had not always been in love with Castiel. By popular belief, one refers of course to the plethora of demons and angels who consistently call Castiel Dean's boyfriend or something of the like. In a way, that was how the idea had come to him. If day in and day out the monster you were about to gank used its last breath to whisper something naughty about you and your best friend, well, you wonder what gives off that impression. Of course it was true that the same thing had happened with his brother multiple times, but those comments were rattled off by civilians. On the whole, Dean found demons to be a whole lot more perceptive than regular humans. He paused at the end of almost every day and considered the possibility, often while washing blood off his face from the hunt and staring at himself in the mirror. I don't love him. Right? Right. Good. Great. He'd nod at himself and then the matter was summarily dismissed. Dean shouldn't really have needed to perform this daily check. He wasn't gay, and of that he was very sure. Therefore, he couldn't possibly be attracted to the laconic angel. Right? Right.

Yet he had to ask himself anyway. If Sam had been there, he would have seen a strangely vulnerable expression cross the older brother's face. Sam would have paused for a moment, swung his legs over the hotel bed and walked over. He would've handed Dean a beer, taken the whiskey out of his hand and offered that silent smile which said, 'We can talk if you want to.'

No one, though, was ever there when Dean asked himself The Question. There were some days that The Question took longer to answer than it should have. Some days he had to ask it multiple times, just to reassure himself. Whenever he answered himself No, it was like a warm pat on the back saying, 'You're not in love with Cas. It's gonna be alright.' It had never occurred to him that there would be a day when he asked The Question and only angry silence would follow, never occurred to him that someday the answer would change. Fuck.

"It's where I belonged. I needed to do penance. After the things I did on earth and in heaven, I didn't deserve to be out. And I saw that clearly when I was there. I... I planned to stay all along. I just didn't know how to tell you. You can't save everyone, my friend... though, you try." Those words hit him like the last twanging string of a guitar solo. He understood now, and he wished he didn't.

Hunter Heroici

Dean sat on the bed gingerly. His heart pounded in his mouth. "Talk to me." Cas' face twisted, and it was an expression he'd seen too many times before. Cas usually wore it while he was being tortured. Dean tried so hard to keep his expression nonchalant. He couldn't let it on. The Question was ringing through his head, screaming at him. Dean stared at Cas. _Look at the pair of us. So torn fucking torn up._ He waited for Cas to talk. This was unfamiliar. Emotions. He wished for a second they were back in Purgatory, where everything was cut and dry. The wish only lasted a split second, though - here, in this lamp lit motel, they were safe.

Castiel's voice was halting. "Dean, I... When I was... bad. And I had all those things - the... the leviathians, writhing inside me... I caused a lot of suffering on earth, but I _devastated_ Heaven. I vaporized thousands of my own kind, and I - I can't go back." He sounded like the confession had been ripped out of his lungs.

"Cause if you do, the angels will kill you." Dean knew a little something about making bad decisions and them coming back to bite you in the ass. Woulda been a lot better for everyone if Cas hadn't had to learn it by almost destroying the world.

"Because if I see what Heaven's become - what I made of it... I'm afraid I might kill myself." The confession sounded like it had been ripped out of his lungs. Dean's face softened, and he had a brief moment of insanity in which he considered sliding his hand over the other man's, comforting him. Sam walked in the door, and Dean clenched his fist. _That was a narrow miss._

The case was over and Cas was gone. Again. Dean didn't know if he should lie back and relax (watch some straight porn) or hit the wall. Maybe both. His head hurt from all the thinking he'd done on the way to the motel. Cas hadn't wanted to come with Sam and him - he instead had stayed with Mr. Jones listening to Ode to Joy play in his head. Dean wasn't sure what it meant that the angel preferred a psychic with dementia listening to hymns to riding shotgun in the impala. Dean groaned. His fingernails dug crescent moons in his palms. He had no right to be angry with Mr. Jones of all people - he'd been a great guy. While he had more than half a brain.

The real kicker, though, was how goddamn contented Cas had looked as they walked out of the room. Like there was no place he'd rather be. Dean stood and threw his beer bottle across the room. It smashed on the wall and the glistening fragments slid down to the carpet where he glared miserably at them. He didn't even remember finishing the beer. Dean stood still before crumpling to the floor, not very gracefully. His leather clad back was braced against the end of the bed. He put his head in his hands and thought once again, Oh fuck.

This was how Sam found him some hours later. Dean hastily insisted he had a bad hangover, which Sam thought was ambitious given that it was six o'clock and they'd been on a case the day before. His brows furrowed in thought. What was wrong? What could possibly be... A passing shadow of a suggestion came through Sam's mind, but he dismissed it. For now. Sam was confident that soon enough, the truth would come out. Dean rolled over, unable to get to sleep, the mattress taunting him. Not for the first time today, he wondered, how the fuck did you get yourself into this, Winchester?

Remember The Titans

When the day was over, and his bones ached, and he thought the tide of evil sonsofbitches would never let up, he prayed. Prayed to Cas. Cas had once told him that prayer was a sign of faith, but Dean was sure as hell that his faith wasn't in God. It was in Cas, who'd helped him and his brother more times than he could count, who'd die for him in a heartbeat. Most days, he didn't expect an answer. He just felt better, knowing that somewhere out there in the world, the angel could hear his words. Some days, he thought felt a presence, like a hand on his shoulder. Dean knew that he was imagining it, but that one delusion put him to sleep more restless nights than he'd care to admit.

This time, when he prayed, he desperately wanted an answer. It wasn't about him, and how his heart had decided to twist itself in knots around Cas. It wasn't about The Question and how he couldn't stand having answered it, and answered it wrong. It was about Sam.

"Cas, you got your ears on? Listen, you know I am not one for praying, 'cause in my book it's... it's the same as begging." _He knows you pray every night. What's the use in lying?_ Dean tried desperately to clear his head. "But this is about Sam, so I need you to hear me. We are going into this deal blind... and I don't know what's ahead or what it's gonna bring for Sam. Now, he's covering pretty good, but I know that he is hurting, and this one was supposed to be on me. So, for all that we've been through, I'm asking you..." he shut his eyes tight. "...you keep a lookout for my little brother, okay?" He cast one beseching glance around the room and shook his head. "Where the hell are you, man?"

Goodbye Stranger

Dean was losing control, hot blood running down his bruised face. He groaned. Cas' fist came down again, and again. Just when the thought the angel might relent, he started up again. He was on his knees now. Dean Winchester, who'd never backed down from a fight, was letting an angel beat him bloody. Was there anything he wouldn't let Cas do? His cuts stung and his breath came in short gasps. "Cas. Cas." Punch after punch, pain throbbed through him like a steady rhythm. "I know you're in there." _You'll never forgive yourself. You already destroyed heaven. I won't let you destroy me too._ "I know you can hear me." Dean gazed up, hands reaching up towards Cas, watching the angel blade hovering above him through half closed lids. "Cas..." His voice broke. "It's me." Light glinted sharply off the blade. "We're family." _I'm begging you. Praying to you. Whatever you want to call it._ "We need you." _I've lost you too many damn times._ "I need you."

He couldn't say anymore. Wouldn't let himself. But just then, when Dean thought it was over, something snapped in Castiel's eyes. They went from blank and dazed to purely lost. The angel blade clattered to the floor and as Dean gazed up at him, pain resonating through every bone in his body, he thought, _That makes two of us._

As Cas laid a hand to the side of his face, Dean flinching away, he knew it, even as all the pain drained away. Cas was leaving, again.

 _Like a ship without an anchor_

 _Like a slave without a chain_

 _Just the thought of those sweet ladies_

 _Sends a shiver through my veins._

 _And I will go on shining_

 _Shining like brand new_

 _I'll never look behind me_

 _My troubles will be few._

 _Goodbye stranger, it's been nice._

 _Hope you find your paradise._

 _Tried to see your point of view_

 _Hope your dreams will all come true_

 _Goodbye Mary, goodbye Jane_

 _Will we ever meet again?_

 _Feel no sorrow, feel no shame_

 _Come tomorrow, feel no pain._

 _Sweet devotion, it's not for me._

 _Just give me motion, and set me free_

 _And the land and the ocean._

As the wheels of the Impala turned, Dean committed himself to the music. Let it define him. It didn't matter that he cared about Cas. Cas would come and go and when Dean was long dead, he'd still go wherever he wanted. Dean would never know him, not completely. How could he? Dude was a century old angel. Dean let out a sigh, watching the countryside slide away. It was over. _Goodbye, stranger._

Sacrifice

Dean clutched his little brother to him, holding him up. _We're gonna get through this._ Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a light blaze through the darkness. "No, Cas." He shut his eyes, a brief respite from the world, and a memory cut into him. _"I thought I was doing the right thing." "Yeah, you always do."_ Cas had wanted to fix what he broke so bad he'd been willing to shut himself into Heaven forever. He'd been willing to die if that was the punishment the angels handed out.

"What's happening?" Sam gasped.

"Angels." Instead, he'd fucked it all up, again. Poor stupid sonofabitch. Thing was, if Cas wasn't dead already, Dean knew wherever he was, he probably felt like dying. _Damnit, Cas!_ Why couldn't you just listen to me, for once? Dean swallowed, drawing himself back to reality. "They're falling."


	10. A Moment Without Breath

I'm No Angel

"Dean, you know I always appreciate our talks, our time together." Cas pulled out a chair for him, smiling slightly.

"Listen, buddy..." Dean trailed off, bracing himself for what he was about to do. Cas had just lost his grace, his wings, his powers. He'd been homeless and hunted and to top it off, he'd lost it to a reaper who tortured him. Not that he cared about Cas' barely existent sex life. That feeling, kind of like a twinge of jealousy overwashed with pain? Not important. Cas had called Dean as soon as he found a phone, because, hell, who else did he have to call? Dean had watched him die. Fuck, the angel had become utterly human. Succeptible to all sorts of things, like an insatiable desire for burritos. "You can't stay." And now, he had gotten kicked out by his best friend.

Castiel's face fell, blue eyes swimming with hurt. Dean wasn't sure he'd ever been quite as suffocated in self loathing as he was right then.

Heaven Can't Wait

"And do the buttons - why don't you undo them?" Dean asked with a quirk of his mouth. _Damnit, Winchester. Just because you can't sort out what messed up shit is going on in your head doesn't mean you get to perv on your best friend._

Cas' fingers deftly undid the buttons, and when it became clear he wasn't stopping, Dean said, "Okay. That's far enough, Tony Manero." He let out a small laugh. "Um..." He gave Cas an involuntary once over. "Yeah. Good. All right. Listen to me. Always open the door for her, okay? Ask a lot of questions. They like that. And, uh... Oh, if she says she's happy to go Dutch... she's lying. All right?"

Cas nodded earnestly. Dean smiled and slapped him on the chest. "Go get 'em, tiger." Dean sent Cas off with a thumbs up. It occurred to him as he watched Cas kneel to the ground, picking a rose, that this was the first date the ex-angel had ever been on. For some reason he didn't care to examine, it made him sad. As he drove off at Cas' instruction, he let out a soft sigh. This was good. Cas could learn to be human, live some apple pie life. He deserved that as much as any of them, even if he didn't know how. _Someone really oughta teach him how to be human._ At the thought of Cas learning to be human, knocking on that woman's door every Friday night with mussed up black hair and a grin - well, in comparison with the masses of fallen angels and supernatural batshit that was flying around, a moment without breath was nothing much.

Holy Terror

"It is so good being together again. You know, this is my first beer as a human. I hope it's okay, me joining you?" Why did he have to be so goddamn enthusiastic? Dean would give anything just to be hunting with Sam and Cas and having a cold one on the road, really, he would. But Cas couldn't be here right now, because of Zeke. He wished he could just sink into the beer glass in front of him.

"Why wouldn't it be okay?" Sam said. Sam was way better at not being a dick than him, Dean thought contemplatively.

"You know, Cas, are you sure you're ready to jump back into all this? I mean, it seemed to me like you'd actually found some peace." _This isn't how it's meant to be going,_ he thought privately. Cas couldn't be here not just because Ezekiel said so, but because, well, Dean needed some goddamn space and peace of mind to figure out exactly what fucked up rollercoaster his emotions were going on. While he was busy convincing himself that he was one hundred percent not gay for Cas, he should be finding out what it's like to be a normal human. Not hunting. Not risking his life every day.

"Hey, you once told me that you don't choose what you do. It chooses you." Cas smiled confidentially.

"Huh?"

"I'm a part of this. Like it or not." Cas clinked beers with Dean, already drunk and smiling in his black suit. Had he just... winked?

Road Trip

Dean drove away, light droplets of rain still resting on his cheeks. Man, every time he thought he'd hit rock bottom, he did something to mess it up even worse. And now, Kevin was dead. Kevin was _dead,_ damnit! Sam had every right to hate him, never to pick up the phone and call him up again. And the angel, the one with the borrowed grace and the trench coat, looked like he was about to cry. Even as Cas' voice floated back to him, saying, _You were stupid for the right reasons. Sometimes that's all that matter._ He quirked a smile. _I prefer the term trusting. Less dumb, less ass._ His smile started to crack. He was poisonous, and he was broke down. So he'd avenge Kevin, make right what he could, but he'd do it without his brother and without his angel. _He's not yours,_ he reminded himself. _He's just Cas. And that's how it's gonna stay._

Meta Fiction

In the midst of falling angels and blood, small moments stuck out in Dean's memory. They made him smile. Things like Cas stopping to ask how he was, saying how he missed his wings. _"Life on the road... smells."_ It was these moments Dean hung onto as he drove away, Cas' eyes dark with concern fresh in his memory. The mark had been burning under his skin. When he thought about Cas, though, it seemed to let up, just a little. Just innocent things. Like off-handed remarks the angel made, or the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. He didn't bother to ask The Question. He had bigger problems. Instead, Dean just hummed along to the radio.

Stairway to Heaven

Anger buzzed through the fibre of his being, day in, day out. His thoughts strayed to fantasies of touching the blade again, run his fingers over the edge and watch the blood drip down his fingers. Sure, other stuff was going on, but in his head, it was a one way street. Red throbbed behind his eyelids when he tried to sleep. He couldn't think straight. There were monsters out there, and he wanted to hear them all scream.

Moments of clarity were about as rare as unicorns. Somehow, though, he found peace of mind sitting next to Cas. However short-lived it would be. The angel was dying, slow. All Dean could do was sit here and talk with him. "Cas, you just gave up an entire army for one guy. No, there's no way that you blew those people away."

"You really believe we three will be enough?" Castiel asked.

"We always have been."

Do You Believe in Miracles?

When Dean opened his eyes, the world was different. Beautiful, really. Absolute, almost like Purgatory had been. He'd leave his brother alone and never look back. How strange, to think that this was how the story of all his struggles ended. The angel... well, he might be fun to hunt down. Mess around with his head. God knows what else. But for now, oh, he was gonna howl at the moon. He blinked his black eyes.


	11. Snowball's Chance

Angel Heart

"There's something you gotta know," Dean said to Claire. "Your dad's sacrifice was not meaningless. Yeah, he gave up his body, his... his vessel. And because he did that, Cas... Cas was able to save the world. The world. Your father's a hero. He did not die in vain." He barely heard Claire's soft sigh. Man, he really needed to get a handle on thinking about Cas like this.

 _It's over._ Cas' arms coming around him. _Dean, it's over._ Weird, how he's so much gentler when trying to stop me from killing my brother than he was when we had sex. _It's over._ And somehow, with those words, Cas' with heartbeat against his back, the black had faded from his eyes. Cas had saved him, and not for the first time.

 _You'd kill the angel, Castiel. Now, that one... that I suspect would hurt something awful._ Cain, taunting him.

 _I thought there might be a connection. One extremely messed up human to another._ Cas, trying so hard to do right by Claire. And being far too accurate in his choise of words.

 _Knife me. Smite me. Throw me into the freakin' sun, whatever. And don't let Sam get in the way, because he'll try. I can't go down that road again, man. I can't be that thing again._ Making Cas swear because Cas was the only one he could trust to go through with it.

 _How are you, Dean?_ Cas, forgetting that they had much bigger problems.

 _I ain't exactly a role model,_ he'd said. _That's not true._ Cas had told him with a smile. Dumbass.

 _Hey, maybe you should um... take some time before you get back to work. Allow yourself to heal. It's, uh... I don't know. The timing might be right. Heaven and Hell-they seem reasonably back in order. It's quiet out there._ That quiet moment in his room, tinged with some unknowable emotion. Maybe it was peace.

What was he doing? Oh, yeah, miniature golf. Right.

The Prisoner

Somewhere along the line, he finally answered it. The Question. After months of silence, the answer hit him out of the blue.

 _Fuck._

 _I love you._

Castiel grabbed his shoulder and twisted him around. "No! You're not good. Maybe you could fight the Mark for years. Maybe centuries, like Cain did. But you cannot fight it forever. And when you finally turn, and you will turn... Sam, and everyone you know, everyone you love... they could be long dead. Everyone except me. I'm the one who will have to watch you murder the world. So if there's even a small chance that we can save you, I won't let you walk out of this room."

Cas' words catapulted him forward a hundred years in the future. Sam would be gone. Cas would be all he had left. Maybe they'd stick together. Hell, in that long of a hard life, maybe the truth would even get dragged outta him. Maybe he'd just break down and tell Cas, _Look, man, I love you._ Like Colette had helped Cain. But Cas was right - eventually, he would turn. He'd kill the angel. Slow, sweet, looking into his eyes. "Oh, you think you have a choice." That wasn't gonna happen. He'd never let it go that far. But Sam and Cas, they couldn't save him either. Poor stupid bastards for trying. The only way was to get as far away from them as possible. Cas could never find out. God knows what would happen then.

"I think the Mark is changing you," Cas said baldly.

"You're wrong." _I've always been this messed up, angel._

"Am I? Because the Dean Winchester I know would never have murderered that kid." Cas' face was twisting in anger. Maybe a hint of pain.

"Yeah well, that Dean's always been kind of a dick." He moved to leave. _Just let me go. You'll never see me again. You can go and watch the bees._

Cas stopped him, though. "Dean, I don't want to have to hurt you." _Stupid sonofabitch._

"I don't think that's gonna be a problem." _If I'm gonna hurt you, it might as well be now. Not two hundred years down the line._

Dean wrenched Cas' offending hand off his shoulder, drawing his other fist back and punching Cas hard. He pummeled the angel until he was coughing up blood, and Dean didn't want to stop. _This is what happens to the people I love._ Punch. _Don't you dare look for me._ A kick in the stomach. _You never should have dragged me outta the Pit._ He grabbed Castiel by the tie. Dean held the angel blade he'd snatched from Cas' jacket high above his head. "No. Dean. Please." All the time he'd been slamming Cas down, hurting him til he couldn't breathe, Cas had just kept on saying his name. _Dean. No. Dean. Please._

The blade sunk deep into a book on the table. He couldn't. Not after everything. "You and Sam stay the hell away from me. Next time I won't miss." He could feel Cas' eyes on his back as he walked out the door.

The realization that he loved Castiel didn't make him happy. It make him kind of sick inside, like he wanted to rip his heart out and bang his head against a wall at the same time. He didn't know why. All the reasons he should hate himself, why he should feel like crying, they were wrong. It wasn't how Cas was an angel, or his best friend, or how brokedown and dirty Dean felt. It wasn't even that he felt bad about beating Cas within an inch of his life. Cas probably didn't understand love, anyways. It wasn't how many times they'd fought just to breathe, or died to save the world. Not all the times Cas had been brought back to him, like a frowning miracle in a trench coat. This was how it had to end, how it would end. Castiel could go back to watching the world from a distance, exploring the forests maybe, helping people in some small way. Sam would find some other chick and a dog, live the apple pie life. Dean would find the darkest corner of the world and there he'd devote himself to, well, not destroying everything, again. Maybe that twisting feeling in his gut had something to do with the goddamn bright blue eyes that watched him as he walked away. Maybe there was something in those eyes he couldn't stand to see.

Brother's Keeper

When he decided to kill Death, he was thinking of Sam. He wanted to think that maybe, it could be two brothers against the world again. That they could save people. Make a difference. Maybe, Dean Winchester, could make up all of his crap to the world and to his family.

When he decided to give life a second (or two hundredth) shot, he was thinking of Cas. The mark had this... effect on him. When he wasn't killing or maiming someone's grandma or guzzling alcohol, he was, for lack of a better word, going insane. His thoughts flew all over the place. His vision fogged out and when he tried to sleep, he only dreamt in memories. Sometimes it was dark. Real dark. He'd dreamt of Purgatory more times than he cared to count. But sometimes... sometimes in the course of everything spiralling out of control, a crazy, happy idea would come to him. It felt kind of like that time he got stoned with that hippy chick who turned out to be a witch. But that was his second solo hunt, and another story.

 _Is there a snowball's chance in hell he loves me?_

That's right. In the middle of becoming a mass murderer who had a life long prohibition on chick flick moments, Dean Winchester was wondering if the angel in the trenchcoat loved him. He swallowed hard. Was that why it had been so hard to walk away from Cas? Knowing that if there was a goddamn chance the angel loved him, Cas wouldn't be able to just sit back and forget? That Cas would search the earth for him? Dean thought about it. Really thought about it.

 _It's just the mark fucking with my head._

That was all this idea was, too. He was going insane. But truth be told, he liked the idea. He liked the idea of kissing Cas, slow and deep. He liked the idea of those forbidden three words falling off of Cas' lips. In a momentary wild high, he liked the idea of living again, and he liked that snowball's chance.


	12. Any Other Apocalypse

**So this one's short, but I just thought I'd post it anyway as proof I am continuing this fic. With you til the end ;)**

Out of the Darkness, Into the Fire

For Dean Winchester, though, nothing good ever lasts for long.

Because after his decision to live, to hunt with his brother and to love that dorky ass angel, came Amara. Amara, with the smoke and the sexy black dress and that horrible, slow way of talking like a second rate hypnotist. And what he felt when she was there, no, it wasn't love, it wasn't desire, but it was fucked up as hell. What she said was true, they were bonded in some sick way. So how could he stand to tell Cas the truth when he asked through gritted teeth if the mark was gone? The angel was out there somewhere, and definitely not OK, and he was stuck in here and it made him want to punch a wall. Somehow it'd gone from gripping the steering wheel and laughing at ninety miles an hour to crawling out of a car wreck you put yourself in.

Form and Void

"Help me." Oh God, what did they do to you, Cas?

The Bad Seed

"Dean, I… there aren't words." _Damn straight._ There weren't words for watching Cas writhe on the floor from Rowena's attack dog spell, or for watching it dig deeper and deeper into him, or for why he wouldn't let Cas heal him. As long as Amara was around, he was tied to her and he could hardly stand to look at Cas. That wild minute when Dean thought Cas might love him had come crashing down the second the Darkness came around. Now, _because_ he loved Cas, he couldn't act like he did. It'd be too much. God, the words 'love' and 'Cas' sounded so unfamiliar in his mind. He'd been asking himself The Question for years now, and when he had the answer, it came as a familiar surprise. Like he'd always known the answer, but didn't think he'd quite put it into words. Bitterly, he walked away. It was just about ganking the Darkness now.

Our Little World

Dean felt sick. He was a hunter, and that was what he was good at. And it wasn't even that he'd failed to kill Amara – he hadn't even tried. So while Cas was here watching stupid TV and having mercy on goddamn Metatron and Sam thought God was sending him visions, Dean was broken. Again. So it was no wonder he couldn't look Cas in the face, yelled at him and avoided Sam. It was too much and he wasn't enough.

The Devil in the Details

Dean watched Cas walk away, trench coat billowing in the wind. The stupid sonofabitch had wanted to take his friggin' temperature. Sometimes, there was a curious, awkward humanity in the angel that made Dean want to cry or smile or kiss him, but usually wound up with him driving off or downing another whiskey shot. Loving Cas, because that's what it was, damnit, it was tearing him up. So he had to stop it. Kill Amara, dig himself out of yet another hole and pull Cas through with him, but not because he loved him. That way would just get him in trouble. Because Cas was family. Which is probably why he felt like a tower of shit letting Cas walk away into God knows what.

There was a time when fate kept bringing Cas and Dean together, Dean reflected. It'd been mildly irritating at the time. First came the 'who the fuck is this?' and then the 'oh, that grouchy angel dude' and finally 'god Cas, it's good to see you in one piece'. And now it seemed all he could do was drive away, watching Cas with that little half smile in his rear-view mirror. Lucifer had been their last hope, and God he never thought he'd say that. So now they had no gun and no bullets and Dean was busy getting his heartstrings pulled by a stupid angel. Way to go, Winchester. He reminded himself firmly of his earlier resolution. Stop it. Stop thinking about him. So he pulled away in his car, Sammy riding shotgun, and pretended like it was just any other apocalypse.


	13. Bring You Home

**This fic will be completed once s11 has finished airing. Unfortunately I can only write this as fast as they air the series. I might have timestamps for s12, but will probably end it with a slight s11 coda. Thanks for your patience! :)**

Into The Mystic

 _"Cas will be fine. He always is."_ And that's what Dean told himself. Tried to ignore how off Cas had seemed, and most importantly, told himself it had nothing to do with him. Any wild notions he'd had about sweeping Cas off his feet had gone out the window when Amara showed up - even if a tiny part of him wanted to believe that maybe, a future with Cas was part of what he was fighting for. That way lay the possibility of hurt, rejection and an extra heap of self loathing, so he shut it down. A case would do him and Sam good. A distraction. Yeah.

Until Cas had to show up at the bunker. All he'd wanted was to grab the gold blade and gank the siren, but no, there was Cas, in amidst all the fluttering paper. With that dishevelled black hair which he absolutely refused to think of as sex hair and, "Dean, tell me everything." *** Was Dean imagining it that his face fell when Cas said, "Attraction? Oh, Dean."

"I know." He bit back the frustration which threatened to rise into his voice. "I know, OK? Whatever it is," he concentrated on unwrapping the gold blade, not sure if he could stand looking at Cas, "a... Attraction, connection... I got to tell you man, it scares me. I don't know that I can stop it. I don't know that I can resist it." Somehow he felt like the words fighting their way out of his mouth were betraying him. He couldn't even remember whether Cas was the one person he should tell this two, or the one person who should never find out.

Cas laid a hand on Dean's shoulder - hey, didn't something feel kind of weird about that? Something... wrong? "Hey, it scares me too. But we will find out what this is, I promise. In the end, it may help draw her out. This could be a good thing." Dean's stomach twisted. That wasn't what he'd wanted to hear. But what had he expected? Of course Cas was going to think strategy, it was the apocalypse. His feelings were the least important thing right now. Nonetheless, he was glad when his phone rang.

 _"The next time you face Amara, you won't be alone."_ Irregardless of any logic his brain tried to force to it, the words warmed Dean from the inside out. He tried not to think of them as Mildred, sassy old lady that she was, told him, "Follow your heart. You do that, all the rest just figures itself out." He failed. Images of Cas' too-blue eyes rose up in front of him and he wondered what it'd be like if Cas was here, watching this sunset with him.

"Darlin'... If there's one thing I've learned in all my years on the road, it's when somebody's pining for somebody else." Damn, he just couldn't get a break today. Every place he looked, Cas, Cas, Cas. But pining? Really? He didn't _pine._ He swallowed hard, wondering if he'd rather be 'vulnerable' because of his creepy, slightly rapey bond with the sister of God or his forbidden desire for his best friend who was also a kickass angel. Jesus. He missed just burning ghosts to a crisp. And so it was dismissed, with a simple, "You're overthinking it." Gone. He swallowed, and tried to pretend that it was.

Love Hurts

Ever since Cas had shown up at the bunker, he'd been having these dreams. Weird dreams. Dreams with Cas in them.

He knew they weren't real - couldn't be real. Every dream started the same way. He'd be looking out onto the open road, two lane asphalt stretching as far as he could see. It was always cold. All of a sudden, a pair of arms would snake around his waist and he'd feel Cas' body behind him, molding itself to him. It didn't seem strange, in the dream. There was an odd, almost artificial sense of calm which reminded him of morphine. As soon as he turned around, the scene would change, often to some over-decorated bedroom with a giant bed. Sometimes it was somewhere weird, like a deserted swimming pool or even right by one of his high-school locker. Usually they were places he would never, ever want to have sex, but in the dreams, he didn't mind. Cas would fumble with his buttons awkwardly, until Dean had stripped them of all their clothes.

He was in the middle of one of those dreams now, and they were on a bed with gaudy red sheets. Dean had Cas pinned down, and was thrusting against his hard cock, listening to the angel's whimpers of pleasure. Cas wasn't how Dean expected him to be - how he'd been in Purgatory, if that had really happened and wasn't just another crazed dream. In his dreams, Cas let Dean take the lead, nearly made Dean force him into everything, and wore this innocent expression Dean just longed to wipe away. Cas keened, and as Dean dropped himself onto his elbow, sucked a red mark into his throat. Dean moaned.

That was how he woke up on Valentine's Day, palming himself through his boxers, sweat beaded on his bare chest. Cursing, he tore off his underwear and finished himself off, quickly and sloppily. He walked, legs shaking more than he cared to admit, to the shower, and banged his head against the tiles while he waited for the water to warm up. The dreams weren't real, he said, over and over again. Thing was, he knew Cas would dream walk, and sometimes Cas said things to him, things that made him think it was really Cas, dreamwalking. But there was always something wrong about the things Cas said, something that made Dean's gut twist uncomfortably. He let the hot water scald over his body, wiping away the traces of cum on his stomach. In a way, he didn't even want the dreams to be real. Something about them made him feel sick, in a way Cas never had. He closed his eyes. He needed _something_ , something without blue eyes and a dick.

It wasn't too hard to find a chick at the nearest dive bar. He had to have four shots of whiskey to steady his hands - Jesus, when had this happened? The chick was real vocal, whispering filthy things into his ear as he rammed her up against the wall of her apartment and fucked her. For a while, he forgot about Cas. This girl was good; soft curves pressing up against him, wet tongue and teeth against his neck; and he didn't feel even slightly bad about leaving as soon as she'd gone to get a glass of water. There was nothing he wanted less than to 'just hold her'. He should probably feel guilty about it, but all the guilt was taken up elsewhere.

Had she given him a hickey? He couldn't remember, when Sam asked. It'd all been a blur. But the thing was, if she hadn't, that meant... that meant his dreams were real. "Just doing my civic duty," he muttered.

 _"I can see inside your heart. Feel the love you feel. Except it's cloaked in shame."_ It's not love, he still wanted to scream. It's not love. He had to make Sam understand that.

It was only later, when the roar of the Impala's engine had almost lulled him into forgetting, that he thought, _Maybe it wasn't talking about Amara. Maybe it was talking about Cas._ He gulped. Was he ashamed? Maybe. If not for loving Cas in the first place, then for hurting him so much, then for keeping it secret all this time. He shook his head to clear it. He was glad the Qareen hadn't appeared as Cas. Both because he didn't know if he could have killed it, and because maybe, just maybe, it meant his desire for Cas wasn't wrong.

The Vessel

 _"Dean, that's not Cas!"_

_"Cat's out."_

That was the moment it all came crashing down. Too far, too fast, Lucifer's arm on his shoulder. Cas couldn't have chosen this. Never would have, in a million years. No. He felt tears welling up and thought his cheeks might crack in two. He was sinking, just like the sub with the poor brave bastards on it. Lucifer was wearing Cas' body, and everything that had felt wrong over the past weeks suddenly made horrible sense, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

That wasn't true. He'd save Cas, no matter what it took. Once, he might have thought he was repaying a debt - Cas dragged him out of hell. Now he knew better. He needed Cas. And even if Cas didn't want to be saved... Dean'd do it anyway. He'd left Cas behind in Purgatory, hadn't been able to convince him not to take in all the souls and the Leviathan; this time he had to. He had a feeling this might be his last chance.

Beyond The Mat

"Dean, we'll get him back. We will. We just got to..." Dean wondered if his brother knew, then. If he hadn't been as inconspicuous in those glances as he thought, if something in his face betrayed him when he thought of Cas. Then he wondered if it mattered.

"Keep grinding. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how hard it gets, you got to keep grinding." Dean said firmly.

"Right." Sam said, and Dean didn't meet his eyes, because there was way too much empathy there. Stupid Sam and his puppy dog eyes and emotions.

"And that's how we're gonna win. And we're gonna win. We're gonna save Cas, we're gonna ice the Devil and we're gonna shank the Darkness. And anyone that gets in our way, well, God help them." He clenched his jaw, and for a moment, allowed himself to believe in that future. Amara gone. Cas safe. Peace. It sounded good.

"Damn right," Sam smiled.

"Damn right."

Hell's Angel

"It? It's not an it, Sam, it's Cas." His voice was soft, too soft. His eyes flickered to Crowley, hoping the smug sonofabitch hadn't noticed.

"And Cas wanted to do this," Sam reminded him.

"Yeah, well, there's times I want to get slapped during sex by a girl wearing a Zorro mask. That don't make it a good idea." He blinked. Where the hell that that come from?

"Dean, this is exactly how we screw ourselves. W-We make the... the heart choice instead of the smart choice." Sam said carefully; too carefully.

"Oh, okay. Thank you, Dr. Phil," he snapped. "Cas is family."

"Yes, and his choice deserves to be respected," Sam said, more firmly now.

"Even if it kills him?" He couldn't let that happen, not ever.

"Castiel, show yourself!" He'd once told Cas he didn't pray, that it was a little too close to begging in his book. But he was begging now. "Cas, listen to me. You have got to..." Cas writhed, and Dean flinched. "Cas. Castiel, show yourself!" The flames burned low by his feet, and he could see the red glow of the warding starting to fail. _Please, Cas. Please._

"Oh hoo! Uh, he's got to what? You boys..." he laughed, and Dean's lip curled. "Oh, you almost had me there for a minute, but these mail-order spells... they're just not what they're cracked up to be, are they?"

"Cass, expel him! You got to kick Lucifer out! Do you hear me?!" It could be over so easily. Lucifer gone. Cas swaying with relief as Dean doused the holy fire and caught him as he almost fell to his knees. Dean was dying to see Cas shining out through those stupid blue eyes, instead of Lucifer.

"Honestly, I think he's happy with the arrangement. I mean, he did invite me in and all, Dean."

It's not true. It can't be true. "Cas!" Dean yelled, his voice breaking.

"Cas!" Lucifer's mouth twisted in mockery, and Dean's hopes sank. Cas wasn't answering the phone right now.

Dean didn't know what it was. Amara was standing there, right in front of him, but her cheap hypnotist's charm was barely working. He called out desperately for Cas.

Respect Cas' decision, his ass. He wanted a thousand things at once, to yell at Cas for being such an idiot, to scream and ask _why_ , to hold Cas in his arms and kiss him until they forgot everything, but right now he'd settle for one. "Well, let's go find that idiot and bring him home." Dean rolled the red ball across the table, and watched in satisfaction as the empty beer bottles toppled over.


	14. Rearview Mirror

**The final chapter of this fic. I honestly don't have the patience to postpone a conclusion to s12, so I hope you've enjoyed what I've written. And I know, I promised you more smut, but I didn't think it fit with the ending of this. Check out my other fic, Learning to Fly for a slow burn and then sexy times :P Enjoy!:**

The Chitters

 _What's it like... settling down with a hunter?_

Dean drums his fingers on the steering wheel as they drive away, the question reverberating through his mind. Except, it's altered slightly with every echo, like a game of Chinese Whispers, so that by the time they're on the highway it sounds an awful lot like, _What'd it be like, settling down with Cas? What would_ that _freedom look like?_ He can scarcely even imagine it - to give up hunting, that's one thing, and letting himself imagine he could have Cas, that's another - but together? That's a whole other ball game. He bites his lip and tries not to think about it, not to think about waking up next to Cas in the morning and how messed up his hair would be, not to think about having a real home together, not to think about kissing those goddamn pink lips... because he can't. He can't even think about that, not until Amara's gone.

All In The Family

He hates being close to her. It makes him sick to his stomach under a haze of a syrupy sweet mindfuck. But he has to do it, so they can get to Cas.

"Something stops you," she says slowly. "Keeps you from having it all." He grits his teeth. Thinks of Cas. And thinks of his Mom, too, because she'd want him to be brave. "Where are your thoughts? Something's different." Her forehead creases. And he wants to turn away, so badly. He just can't, quite. Maybe she knows about Cas. Maybe she knows Chuck's at the bunker. But it doesn't matter, because what she's asking for, it's just one giant _adios_ , away from his family, away from Sam and Cas.

Alpha and Omega

It had made him sick, to watch Lucifer dragging around Cas' body. Looking out of those stupidly blue eyes, because he didn't have the right. Dean knew Cas' body wasn't really _his,_ it was Jimmy Novak's, but the distinction didn't register for Dean. Lucifer talking out of the lips Dean wanted to kiss was point blank wrong.

So, when Cas was finally back, sprawled on the floor but saying his name and _back,_ he expects the weight to lift off of his chest. And it does, for a hot second. He almost does it then, reaches out and cups his hand to Cas' face, kisses him senseless and wraps his arms around the angel saying, "Why didn't you just _stay_ , you dumb sonofabitch?"

But something stops him, and makes the weight crash down again.

For once, it's not some inner hatred or fear or dumb angst-ridden notion; he thinks it's something good. Which doesn't mean he hates it any less.

The sun's dying, outside. Amara's still out there. God is maybe 24 hours away from dying, so, to put it succintly, everything's going to shit. And here's the thing. Even if Cas feels the same way he does - damnit, a fucking burst of joy shoots through his entire being just thinking about it - it wouldn't be right to make a pass at him because hey, the world's ending. Odd enough (or maybe not), he remembers Jo. _If this is my last night on earth, I'm gonna spend it with a little thing I call self-respect._ And he thinks how maybe she was right, and most of all, how he and Cas have been through so much together that it wouldn't be right to make a pass at him _now_ , after all this time, and only because they're running out of time.

If kissing Cas until he forgets the world outside is ending, until he forgets everything except the press of their lips together; if that isn't an option, he'd like to scream until his voice goes hoarse at Cas. Ask him why in holy hell he'd lay himself on the line like that by pulling all the crap with Lucifer. Why he'd sacrifice himself like that. But once again, everything's on the verge of ending. He doesn't want his last hours to be spent angry at Cas, because Cas doesn't deserve that. Even if it was a dumbass thing to do, it was brave, too. So although what Cas did makes him angry and hurt and confused inside, he doesn't say what he wants to.

He does the last thing left to him, then. He tells a lie that's almost the truth, and it's a good one, one that's meant to heal things between them, as much as he can. He says what he _can_ say without tearing things apart and presenting Cas with his bleeding heart. He says what he's rehearsed a thousand times before - but funnily enough, it sounds a lot like what he used to say when he was convincing himself he didn't love Cas.

'It wasn't stupid. You were right. You were right to let Lucifer ride shotgun. Me and Sam wouldn't have done that. It was our best shot, and you stepped up. You do help, Cas. You know, sometimes me and Sam have got so much going on that...we forget about everyone else. But you're always there, you know? You're the best friend we've ever had. (The best friend I've ever had, he adds silently.) You're our brother, Cas. I want you to know that.'

And there it is. The lie that's the icing on top of a cake of just about truth. He must be imagining it when he thinks Cas' face falls a little, that his lip trembles a tiny bit when he says, "Thank you." Dean's throat closes up because he thinks, doesn't that mean he doesn't feel the same way? Isn't that what you say when someone tells you something and you're flattered but don't really feel it? Thank you? Doesn't that mean that maybe he doesn't think of Dean as a brother? God, he almost wants to ask, but before he can, his phone rings. _It's better this way,_ he thinks.

"Dean," Cas says, holding his arms out.

"Cas." Dean answers faithfully as Cas walks up to him. He counts the steps. One, two, three, and then the angel's arms are around him. Dean smiles for a split second, and then it hurts too much. "Okay," he says softly. "Okay. Alright."

"I could go with you," Cas says, eyes dark.

Dean swallows, and a memory rises up. It's of the fucked up universe Zachariah once showed him, where the Croatoan virus had spread everywhere and Lucifer had possessed Sam. _You coming?_ And Cas' answer - _Of course._ He shakes his head. "No, no, no." He almost wants to say yes. But if this is gonna save the world, he wants Cas to be part of what he saves. That, and he can't stand for Cas to see the way he is around Amara. "No, I got to do this alone." He tells Cas to look out for Sam. Maybe they'll look out for each other, who knows. He isn't coming back from this. Maybe someday, Cas will learn how Dean really felt about him. Maybe they'll work a case together, and Sam will let something he shouldn't even have known slip. Cas might never know, hell, maybe he knows now. But as Dean drives off, he knows he did the best damn thing he could. And so he doesn't even let himself slip into sadness at the sight of his brother, his angel, his dreams all in the rearview mirror. He just drives.

An Indeterminate Length of Time After Everything

It was a long time after that, after his Mom had come and gone again, after the smoke had cleared off the horizon from the latest apocalypse, when the sun was setting. That was when he told Cas.

It wasn't even a conscious decision. For a while, he'd been asking himself a different question. It started off nebulously, a kind of pondering. _When you look at me like that, when you watch me when I'm sleeping and it seems like your eyes could fucking swallow me, what are you thinking?_ From there, it evolved into _Does you love me?_ and finally _If I kissed you now, what would you do?_

They were sharing a look, just like they had a thousand times before. And sure, maybe there were external factors that made it different, like the fact they were alone, or that it was silent apart from the wind whistling through the grass, but deep down, it was the same look as always. And Dean reached across the treacherously narrow gap between them and entangled their hands, before looking up into Cas' eyes. _Yup,_ he thinks, gulping, _Could definitely drown in those._ Cas looks down at their hands, bites his lip, and nods once. And after a moment which seems to stretch into years, he gets his answer.

Cas surges up against him and presses his lips against Dean's, tightening his grip on Dean's hand. Dean's eyes go wide because never, in all his years of thinking about this, had he imagined Cas would be the one to kiss him first. He guesses Purgatory really should have tipped him off about that.

Dean reaches up, cups his hand to Cas' face and circles his thumb there. Cas' body is warm and firm against him and utterly different to what he's used to, but it's good, so good.

It's good when Cas drags him into the Impala, tears off all his clothes and Dean finally gets to know what Cas sounds like when he moans. When Dean memorized how Cas tastes, and what makes him shudder. When they map out each other's bodies with their fingertips and classic rock blasts on the radio and their first real time (on Earth, anyway) is clumsy and rough and beautiful and their teeth knock together. When Cas fucks Dean slowly, and it's like they were made to do this, and they utter the promises of young lovers but with a ring of truth. It's good when Cas is sitting shotgun instead of standing in his rearview mirror, and you know what? It's _damn good_ when he can look into Cas' eyes and see the road ahead of him instead of behind.

 **I'd love it if you guys would tell me what you thought of the fic and of this chapter. Thanks for bearing with me :) I tried to explain why Dean a. didn't make a pass at Cas, b. wasn't angry at him and c. went on the whole brother spiel, in a Destiel context. Hope I did OK!**

 **Thank you all for reading!**

 **~BadassCompany**


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